


Not Just Mine Anymore

by Jabbersense



Category: Gintama
Genre: Epilogue, Family, Fluff, G But Some Language, Gintoki's childhood, One-Shot, headcanons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-04-13 05:42:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4509987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jabbersense/pseuds/Jabbersense
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's always a loaded statement when Gintoki says it was Shouyou who saved him. People will never know how deep the meaning goes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance for typos! This is un-beta'd, but I tried my best to scour for them!

Like predator devouring prey, November was swallowing up October. Gone were the crisp, refreshing breezes. They had been replaced by dry, icy blasts that stung our faces. No longer did the lush leaves of trees transforming into burning hues surround us. Rather, we passed through the skeletons of forests, and the crunches underfoot were their laments. I knew that snow—and snow arguably being a traveler’s most grave obstacle—would be following very, very soon. Never have I ever been so wary of winter in my life, but then again, my life wasn't just mine alone anymore.

The generous owners of the inn we had stopped at provided us with extra candles since their last vacancy was a corner unit with two exposed walls. I had no money extra, so my heartfelt thanks were the only things I could offer more. It was the lady of the inn who escorted us to our humble room, and it was quite a humble room indeed. I felt bad for not being able to afford better, but your actions assured me that you couldn't have cared less. You abandoned your manners and rushed inside to kick off your socks and sandals as soon as the room was introduced. (My guilt let you get away with such behavior. I would have snatched you by your collar in any other instance.)

Once left in private, I made myself productive by arranging and lighting the candles in the innermost corner of the room. Tamed flames flickered alive as I dragged the futon next to the makeshift hearth. Yet, despite my efforts, it remained inconsolably cold. Goosebumps were creeping across my skin although I had my _haori_ , scarf, and gloves on.

I stood baffled in place, and faint clouds of my breath hung in front of me. How could the room still be this frigid? I clicked my tongue while crossing my arms and shifted my weight to one leg. Maybe there was something you could think of. No question you were a resourceful boy. Perhaps there was new a trick you could teach this old dog.

I looked around for your telltale… Aha! Two birds with one stone as they say. _There_  was not only why the heat had been vanishing, but also as to why you had been so uncharacteristically quiet.

The _shoji_ door facing outside was slid ajar, and planted in front of it was you. The way you were holding onto my sword—the same one I had recently tossed at you—reminded me of a monkey clinging to a tree branch. Your head was tilted so far back that your mouth was agape, and you appeared to be completely enraptured with the night sky. What else could’ve you been doing but stargazing? I nodded beside myself in admiration. What a noble pastime for a boy.

I strolled towards you and kneeled at your side. “Pardon the interruption, but what do you think about us shutting the door? It’s chilly tonight, and I've a nice fire going inside.”

“I won't get sick. It's not even that cold. Leamme alone,” you immediately snubbed in a deadpan voice.

I winced. My pride was stung.

“My, look at this mop!” I parried, vigorously ruffling your hair hoping to get a rise out of you. “It glows silver in the moonlight!”

“Argh! Stoppit!” You barked, scrunching your nose and twisting your torso.

I was stubborn and persisted in pestering you until old instinct resurfaced. Landing on all fours, you sprung backwards and bared your teeth, those red irises glowering at me. You were doing your damndest to look feral, but I burst out into a fit of laughter— here was the reaction I wanted! Dancing on your nerves could be incredibly gratifying, but enough was enough for now. Any more provocation and I was certain you were going to lunge for my throat.

Biting a fabric-covered knuckle, I tried to stifle the last of my snickers. I at last signaled my surrender by shutting my eyes and raising my hands. The gesture seemed to placate you. I heard your wrathful snarls lessen to growls, and those growls eventually fell to indignant huffs. A few moments of silence passed, and I dared only then to sneak a peek at you. Your posture had returned to more human than animal— my sword resting upright against your chest. However, animosity was crackling in the air like static during a thunderstorm.

Oh no…

I was expecting this outburst to drain you and had planned subsequently to put you to bed. Regret crashed into me. I couldn't stand the thought of you going to sleep angry. An easy mind was necessary for your good night’s rest, and heaven knew that as a child you needed all the good sleep you could get. I was the adult. The responsibility was mine to remedy this.

“I apologize. It was wrong of me to antagonize you on purpose. Could you ever forgive me?” I gave a short bow, still sitting on my knees.

“You’re a real jerk, Shouyou-san.”

“I know I am,” I sighed empathetically. “I’m sorry.”

You scrutinized me with your half-lidded stare. Folding my hands in my lap and keeping my gaze low, I waited for you to pass judgement. A wise man hopes for the best but prepares for the worst.

“...Okay."

Phew.

I let out the breath I was holding onto with a relieved chuckle and pulled you in (sword and all) for a hug. When I heard you giggle in return from underneath my chin, I knew then you had truly forgiven me.

I draped my _haori_ over your shoulders and tied my scarf around your neck. The door was still open, and nothing—not even your previous objection—was going to convince me differently about wrapping you up. Giving you my gloves had also flitted across my mind, but the idea was promptly vetoed. They were much too big for your tiny hands, and I doubted you would have let go of my sword for me to put them on anyway.

I paused to steal a good look at you, and an earnest, delighted laugh escaped from me. You were absolutely drowning in my clothes! A sentimental feeling washed over me, and I _tsk_ _ed_ in disapproval at my capricious heart.

You really were a rather cute demon.

Swathed to my satisfaction, I shoved open the door and gestured to the beautiful vista above us. “The moon and her stars are very pretty, aren’t they?” The grand expanse of the universe unexpectedly shook and humbled me, making me feel oh-so-very small.

“Yeah! I love nighttime.”

“Did you know a beautiful princess lives on the moon?”

“Huh? No way!”

“Yes! I could tell you about her if you'd like.”

“I don't believe you! Tell.”

Demand was saturated thick in your voice and was scribbled all over your face. I playfully stuck my tongue out at your petulance while simultaneously tucking my _haori_ on you here and readjusting my scarf around you there. Because I wanted to leave the door open (who was I to shut the moon out of her own narrative?), I had to scratch the itch to double-check my work.

“A long, long time ag—"

“Shouyou-saaan! I knew you were lyin’!” You hollered excitedly, pointing an accusatory finger at my nose and making me go cross-eyed.

My fist bopped the crown of your head. “Child, you're one hundred years too early to be interrupting me!”

With you gingerly rubbing the lump on your skull, I shared Princess Kaguya’s tale. I spoke of how Miyatsuko, a bamboo cutter, found a baby girl inside a glowing bamboo shoot. I regaled about him finding riches hidden in bamboo stalks during work and about him relocating to the city in hopes that his Princess Kaguya could learn to become a noblewoman. I recounted the absurd tasks the ever-growing-in-beauty Princess Kaguya would give her scores of royal suitors and revealed that she confessed to her parents she would have to soon leave earth since she was actually from a lunar society. Somberly, I described how heavenly messengers arrived at Miyatsuko home one summer’s full moon and whisked Princess Kaguya from this world in a feather robe after teary goodbyes had been said.

By the end, you were weeping too.

“Shh… There, there now…” I crooned while serendipitously wiping the mess on your face with my gloves. “Should I have mentioned Princess Kaguya’s history is a bittersweet one?”

“Mmhmm,” you hiccuped and nodded blearily, presumably worn out (finally!) from crying. You unfurled one stubby arm from around my sword and waved it up at me.

Ah, I knew exactly what that gesture meant.

“Up we go,” I announced with a small grunt as I scooped you up. Arms full of you, I slid shut the _shoji_ door behind me by hooking it with my foot and ambled to the area I had arranged earlier. “It’s getting late. Sleepy?”

“Nuh,” a slow yawn. “-uh.”

“Is that so? Your yawn tells me opposite.”

“M’not sleepy! In fact, I wanna another story.”

“Another one?” I inquired, setting you down on the half of the futon closest to the candles. I gently jiggled your wrists for my sword and placed it along my half of the futon in case I should have needed it— hastily reciting a prayer for otherwise. “Alright, but if you fall asleep during this one, I get to reuse it for another night. I've a limited amount of stories memorized.”

“S’deal."

“Excellent. What you like to hear next?”

“Not another sad, princess story. I’m not a girl like you.”

I was genuinely offended. “I am _not_ girl.”

You yanked my hair, and I retaliated by brutally pinching your chubby cheeks, sneering a smile and thrashing your whole face.

“Long hair does not make me a woman, you little brat!”

“Ow! Ow! ’Ouyou-san! ‘Et go! Oo hurtin’ ee! Ow!”

“Lovely,” I chirped brightly, unclenching my fingers.

Massaging your flushed cheeks, you leered at me with an evil side eye. “I wanna story ‘bout a boy. I wanna hear ‘bout someone awesome, like a fighter.”

Two stories came to mind.

“Hmm, I’ll let you choose: Momotaro or Kintaro? Whose heroic feats would you like to hear about?”

“Momo… as in the peach fruit? Shouyou-san, _girls_ are named for peaches!” You were flailing your arms every few words for emphasis, making the sleeves of my _haori_ and the ends of my scarf whip about.

“Please settle down. You're going to get tangled and strangle yourself.” I pinned your arms immobile and leaned heavily against the wall behind me with a groan and an _oomph_. You had a way of making me feel so old though I truthfully wasn’t. “Kintaro it shall be.”

This time, instead of the moon as our company, it was the warm, yellow candlelight and their inky, _contre-jour_ shadows.

“Kintaro was orphaned on a mountain as a baby, only to be discovered by a frightening mountain hag. Fortunately, over gobbling him down for a meal, she raised him as her own. Kintaro grew astonishingly well in the forests of the mountain. He was healthy, active, and very plump. During those days of childhood, he would run around in a bib with the kanji for gold on it and hone his amazing strength. He could smash boulders, uproot trees, and would even sumo wrestle bears. Oh, yes! He learned how to speak with animals, and they became his friends. Kintaro was a good, brave boy. When not with his animal friends, he would battle monsters, drive out demons, and help nearby mountain villagers with their backbreaking labor.

“As a grown-up, Kintaro changed his name to Sakata no Kintoki. It was in his adulthood he chanced upon Minamoto no Yorimitsu, the famous Heian period samurai. Minamoto happened to be passing through the mountain and was so impressed by Sakata’s physical prowess that he took him to Kyoto. Having achieved a lengthy list of martial accomplishments in the old capital, Sakata's next priority was to bring—”

I must have been totally absorbed in my own world because I hadn't noticed you falling asleep, but there you were, latched onto the outside of my arm like you do my sword. I started scratching your snowy bird’s nest of hair, and its coarse texture felt oddly pleasant beneath my palm. You looked so peaceful, like you had never experienced hardship in your life. How I wished it were true.

If there was nothing to be done about your past though, I wished dearly for your future. I hoped for you to have a blissful, carefree childhood with those who would become your lifelong friends. I hoped that you would grow up to be a great swordsman like Sakata no Kintoki (and would never have to see war again). But most of all, I hoped that you would become a good man, someone whom others could rely on and trust.

Suddenly, I snagged that line of thought and severed it. Goodness, was I already this recklessly attached to you?

“Nooo… Don’ stop… I’z payin’ attent’n,” you slurred into my arm, drifting in and out of sleep.

"Oho? A valiant effort, but I've been done talking for quite awhile now."

"Heard ev'rythin'..."

I carefully spun you around—still having you cling to my bicep—to tuck and hide you into the crook of my arm. “One chance, what was the last thing I said?”

“Mmm... y'said ‘bring’.”

My eyebrows shot up in surprise. How had you…? I mean, there was a drool spot right above my elbow from you.

“Huh. I guess I will have to tell you about Momotaro next time.”

“Hey, Shouyou-san,” you mumbled, head lolling sharply and knocking against my ribs. (Were you sleepy or were you broken?) “Kintaro, Sakata no Kintoki, whatever. He’s strong ’n awesome.”

“Indeed, he’s an admirable character.”

“Hey, Shouyou-san,” you repeated.

“Yes?”

“Call me Kintoki.”

I turned and gawked at you. You had never volunteered any information about yourself before. Without fail, you would ignore me if you felt my questions becoming too personal.

“Names are a gift. You should be thankful for the one you already have,” I pressured politely. There was nothing to be done about your past, but I wasn't going to have it be erased either.

You curled yourself smaller and whispered bitterly, “I don’t remember it. Why d’you always want to make me feel bad about that?”

To your alarm, I unsheathed my arm from your grip and cupped my face in my hands.

“I’m sorry, Shouyou-san! I didn’t mean to!”

Of course you were taken with Kintaro’s story. You were his parallel. Both of you were strays, and both of you were phenomenally strong physically and mentally. However, you were real whereas Kintaro was a fable, and reality was often much crueler than fantasy. You weren’t nurtured in mountain forests and spoke the language of animals. You were once a corpse eating demon and had to learn to thrive off of bloody battlefields and had to learn to speak language of the slain.

“Shouyou-san?” You squeaked, tugging down on my arm. I didn’t answer.

No. I was being unfair. This wasn’t about me and my misgivings; it was about you and your choices. Being a child didn't matter, exactly as how your past didn't matter either. In the present, the here and now, you had already proven your tremendous will by the harshest of trials.

I resolved myself.

Like I had let you choose your own bedtime story, I had to let you choose your own name— the title of your epic. It was the right thing to do. My duty was to simply guide you as best as I could and to have faith in you as you grew.

“Kintoki, Sakata Kintoki,” I sampled the name on my tongue as I would fine sake. The anxious look on your face charmed back my good sense of humor, “It can’t be _Kin_ toki. Your hair is all shades of gray and white and silver!”

“Fine then, _Gin_ toki” you agreed, nodding your head furiously.

Bless me, that was perfect.

“Sakata Gintoki,” I repeated, tasting it again. “I like it. I like it very much. Similar, but something still original all of your own.”

Your face split into a grin from ear to ear, and everything was alright with the world again.

“Well…” I hesitated, officially trying out your new name for the first time. “ _Gintoki_. We have to leave before noon tomorrow, and I’ve been rather irresponsible. If it was late before, the hour is unholy now. Why don’t you blow out the candles.”

A mischievous glint sparked in your eyes. “I gots a question first?”

“Go on.”

“How old d’you think I am?

I stammered, caught off guard. Where had this come from? “Wh-what? I would guess five or six perhaps.”

“When d’we first meet?” You were eagerly awaiting on pins and needles.

“I would estimate about two weeks ago?”

“No, no, no! The date!”

I frowned, unsure. Resting one hand on my hip, I used the other to count backwards on. “I would guess the tenth of October.”

“That’ll do!” You tore away from me and squatted in front of the hoard of candles. “Happy late birthday to me!”

* * *

As I anticipated, not even the apocalypse could’ve stirred you the next morning. As for myself, well, I didn’t need a mirror to know that I had dark circles under my eyes. I let you climb on my back, and I wrapped my layers around the two of us, making sure to shield your legs with my _haori_  and to cover most of your face with my scarf. As I walked down the long corridor, I felt your breathing regain a rhythm— slow, even, and deep. Good. You had fallen back asleep.

The lady of the inn cooed at the dozing you on my back as I paid her for our night’s lodging. Staying up had been worth it, and long past you had I stayed up— drumming my fingers on the sheath of my sword. Not in my craziest dreams would I have imagined meeting a real-life Kintaro, and not in my craziest dreams would I have imagined a real-life Kintaro instilling in me a new purpose.

Autumn was fading fast, and winter was advancing just as quickly. It was a relay race to Hagi, but Mother Nature didn’t intimidate me. With you on my team, I was sure we’d make it there together first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) The fables mentioned are just me paraphrasing the wikis I've read.  
> 2) Hagi is the city where the historical Yoshida Shoin was born and was also put under house arrest. I like to think Yoshida Shouyou established his school there too!


	2. Epilogue

As much as he cherishes this letter of Shouyou’s, Gintoki doesn’t read it every year— more like once every few. God no, not every year. Reopening that wound so often would be too much. This year has proven to be a particularly trying one though. So here he is, slicing down that big, ugly scar with a rusty blade for the _second_ time. People may call him a sadist, but deep down, he’s really a masochist.

He folds the pages into fourths and tucks them in his shirt. He’ll give the letter back to Otose tomorrow to keep with the schoolbook and sword. She’s the only person he’ll ever trust with those things.

“GIN-CHAN, YOU RAUNCHY OLD FART!” Kagura charges into the office like a bull seeing red, hurdles over his desk, and plows into him and his chair. “DON’T LOOK!”

“OI! YOU CRAZY BRAT! THAT FUCKING HURT!”

Her small hands shoot to cover his mouth, nose, and eyes. He’s going to suffocating to death as this little monster chitters away on top of him without a care in the world. Over the blood pounding in his ears, he can just make out her squeaky voice reporting, “Shinpachi and Zura told me to distract you while they get everything ready!”

“Kagura! That’s not distracting Gin-san! That’s spilling the beans to him!”

“Leader, no! It’s not Zura; it’s Katsura!”

“Oops. Sorry.”

Kagura removes her hands, and Gintoki wheezes a breath in only to cough it back out violently. Damn! His head had slammed into the floor, and he’s pretty sure he has a mild concussion— everything’s spinning. He shakily hauls himself up by his desk to see Shinpachi and Katsura on the other side of it. They both have stupid birthday hats on, and each is supporting a half of a cake on a tray. He then turns to look at Kagura who’s chewing on the end a noisemaker. She meets his eyes and blows it his face with an obnoxious toot.

“Happy twenty-something birthday, Gin-chan!”

“Happy twenty-something birthday!” Shinpachi and Katsura parrot.

“Oh, and Gin-chan! The old hag, the sex robot, and the illegal immigrant are all closing up shop right now! They should be here real soon!”

So these assholes had remembered! He thought they had forgotten! Admittedly, he was playing mind games this morning by pretending it was only another day... but who cares! They had really been planning something for him all along!

His chest starts to swell, and he flashes a happy, crooked grin. However, the other three people in the room seem apprehensive at his smile. Gintoki quickly bites it back, forcing himself to scowl.

He follows through with his dour act. Walking around the desk, and snagging Kagura on the way by the wrist, he snaps, “Those useless broads better be bringing me some damn good booze and plenty of it too. You two virgins put down that cake somewhere.”

He watches in muted glee as Shinpachi and Katsura seethe over with rage. In perfect sync, they swing the cake back to slingshot at his face.

“Ey! Don’t you dare! It’s my birthday, and that means I can verbally abuse you shits as much as I want to today!” He snatches the cake away from them. “And don’t waste a perfectly good sweet, you brutes!”

He sets the white cake with its multicolored assortment of candles on the coffee table and admires its charming simplicity. All sweets are beautiful to him, but hmm… there’s… twenty-five candles on the cake?

“Twenty-five? You always put twenty-five candles on Gin-san’s cake. He may seem eternally young and strapping, but his balls sag each year like any other mortal man.”

“Actually Gin-san, we just go with twenty-five because it’s a catchall number. We only know that you’re in your twenties. Not even Katsura-san knows your real age. You should tell us it so we can get the number of candles right.”

“Yeah, Gin-chan! Not even Zura knows how old you are! How freakin’ dumb do you have to be to not know your own age? Oi, Shinpachi! He’s gotta be older than his twenties. He’s already going senile!”

“It’s not Zura; it’s Katsura.”

Gintoki initially cackles at his kids’ discontent, but it’s Katsura peace that kills his laughter. It’s not so much the statement or Katsura’s tone of voice that unnerves him, but rather it’s the look in his eyes.

“That’s right, Gintoki. Even when we were children, your age would change every few years. I still don’t know whether you’re truly younger or older than me.”

He’s at a loss as Katsura’s hazel eyes flash with a piercing awareness. His heart drops into his stomach and everything churns. Has Zura finally figured it out?

“No matter,” Katsura swiftly retracts, appearing pleased with himself. “A wish is to be made! Who has the matches?”

Gintoki pounces on this generous exit. Whatever had just happened, it’s a conversation for another day. “Yeah, you gaggle 'a ugly songbirds! I want to hear some decent squawkin’ coming outta your loud beaks.”

His arm is around Shinpachi, and Katsura has his hands on Kagura’s shoulders as they all—very badly—sing him happy birthday. (The three other broads are late. Eh, okay. Gintoki's being impatient because there's cake.) Never has he ever been worried about so much before, but then again, his life isn’t just his alone anymore. It’s something that’s to be enjoyed, to be shared with everyone else, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I took my headcanons and ran with them, but I really hope you enjoyed reading this! I loved writing it!


End file.
